


and this is the wonder thats keeping the stars apart (i carry your heart)

by RocksCanFly



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-09 05:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocksCanFly/pseuds/RocksCanFly
Summary: Like all Atlanteans, Kaldur was born with his heart outside of his chest.(Monster AU where Kaldur is immortal as long as his heart stays frozen. Which is fine--all he has to do is never fall in love. But then he meets Roy, an escaped simulacron trying to find a way to become A Real Boy (TM), and things go downhill from there)





	1. here is the root of the root

Like all Atlanteans, Kaldur was born with his heart outside of his chest.

It formed in the hollow space above his mother’s ribs while he grew within her womb. In the cold waters of winter he was born, squirming and blind-eyed in the depths of the ocean. After swaddling him in seaweed so he would not float adrift on the current, she coughed his heart up.

It was a grisly and painful process, like all births. Atlanteans' hearts begin encased in magical ice. It tore at her throat, dropping cold and bloody from her mouth into her waiting hands. She secreted it away, keeping it safe for him until he was twelve and enlisted into the Atlantean Expeditionary Corps, as is tradition.

The day he left she gifted him with a string of pearls, a knife of obsidian with a whale bone handle, and the mother-of-pearl inlaid box that held his heart, as is tradition.

Kaldur’ahm of Shayeris swam to Atlantis to begin his service to the sea king. On his way he hunted out a small cave, deep in the ocean’s depths and far from prying eyes of other Atlanteans. He encountered an eel, enormous and lightning quick, with dagger teeth and sinuous strength that threatened to choke the life from him as it wrapped around his torso. He succeeded in killing it, barely. Then he cut the teeth from it's mouth and buried his heart in its cave, setting the teeth at the entrance to guard it from intruders, as is tradition.

Years later Kaldur’ahm of Shayeris would feel a stabbing sensation in his chest when he looked at his friend Tula of Poseidonis, who had hair like bright coral and eyes like the shallows and a temper that could boil the seas. It was his heart, which had thawed for the first time.

He was in love, and if Tula did not accept ownership of his heart he would die.

* * *

 

Atlanteans as a rule are known throughout the Realms for being long lived and powerful. All Atlanteans have a natural talent for sorcery, which they develop to varying degrees. They are resistant to physical damage, due to their dense skin and bones. They have enhanced strength and can live in and out of the water, though they are weak to heat and dehydration.

They seem, at times, immortal.

It's often said from Atlantean mothers to their children that love will be their greatest weakness and greatest strength. On the Surface, amongst people of other kinds, this would be sentimental poetry. It Atlantis it is a simple statement of the truth.

An Atlantean’s first duty as they come of age is to hide their heart so they cannot be destroyed by accident or their enemies. As long as their heart stays frozen and secure, they cannot be killed and will eventually heal from all injuries, no matter how grievous.

But it must be stated that Atlanteans are not, in fact, immortal.

When an Atlantean falls in love, the ice melts and they become vulnerable. The only way for their heart to continue beating is if the Atlantean places it in the care of the one they have fallen in love with.

If that person refuses to care for their heart, the heart will cease beating, and the Atlantean will die.

If that person fails to protect the heart and it is destroyed, the Atlantean will die.

If that person dies, the heart will stop beating, and the Atlantean will die.

If the Atlantean falls out of love, the heart will again become encased in ice. It will no longer require the presence of the former love. But a frozen heart is still vulnerable to damage, and scorned lovers are not known for their mercy or kindness. There have been many cases in the past of Atlanteans being enslaved by those who they once loved and who refused to return ownership of their heart. There have even been tales, whispered in the courts and the dorms of the Academy and the nurseries of children, of mortals tricking Atlanteans into loving them and giving them their hearts so they could enslave them.

For this reason, many assume that Atlanteans would be solitary people. After all, who would risk death and enslavement for the sake of something as fleeting as love?

However, there is a downside to living with a frozen heart. It is only when the heart is alive and beating that an Atlantean has access to their magic. With frozen hearts they are impotent but unkillable, with beating ones they are vulnerable but extremely powerful.

That, and, as any Atlantean who has been lucky in love will tell you, it would be a terrible thing to live forever but to live alone. 

* * *

 

Kaldur fell in love with Tula right as their service in the Expeditionary Corps was coming to an end. The night he first felt his heart beat in his chest he became convinced they were destined--if Tula fell for him as well, they would be able to attend the Academy together and begin the work of mastering sorcery.

He painted a brilliant picture for himself of their lives together--it was the dream of every young Atlantean; to fall in love young and be powerful and immortal and never, ever alone again.

The dream was crushed, however, when Kaldur went in the night to Tula’s barrack’s room to tell her the wonderful news. He found Tula and their best friend Garth hand in hand. They had already fallen for one another, they explained, and were going to retrieve their hearts to gift to one another at moonrise.

Stiffly, Kaldur was forced to admit to them both his feelings for Tula. Because she was kind and loved her friend, Tula agreed to hold Kaldur’s heart and protect it, though she had not fallen for him as he had for her.

It would be a relief to all when Kaldur’s feeling faded years later, and she was able to return it to him.

With his heart again frozen, Kaldur was no longer able to progress in the Academy. He felt no bitterness for this, however. It had been a good number of years, and he had had his good fill of learning. It would hurt to leave Garth and Tula’s side, for he loved them still as all people love their closest friends, but the return of his heart had opened a door he had long been eyeing.

His heart again frozen and hidden away, the surface that had beckoned Kaldur’ahm for all his life held no more danger to him. He had already had and lost his love--he knew he would never love another the way he had loved Tula, and therefore that there was no risk a mortal could entrap him.

It was to his chagrin and, he was convinced, the gods’ amusement that a mere six months after arriving on the surface he would meet a not-quite-man named Roy Harper. Roy Harper, who had hair like bright coral and eyes like the shallows and a temper that could boil the seas.


	2. i fear no fate (for you are my fate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy meets Kaldur, Kaldur meets Roy. They become friends, assemble a family, and fight crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Shade's Ninde, my amazing and stalwart beta without whom this story would be lot more vague and terribly paced. And thanks to all of you folks over on tumblr and in the comments who gave feedback--I'm excited about this story, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

A coward would have thought twice about interrupting two sorceress’s midnight mid-term study session to seek a personal favor. Especially if one of said sorceresses was from one of the most powerful magical lines to walk the Surface Realms, and the other was a kinetimancer who could cut off your oxygen supply and send you through a wall with a flick of her wrist.

Kaldur’ahm of Shayeris was no coward.

But Sha’lain’a of Shayeris had not raised a fool, so he made sure to bring two bottles of wine when he knocked on the door to their suite.

(‘It’s super good, I promise’ Dick had assured him earlier that day while Wally perused the snack selection. They were shopping at the liquor store down the block from the Conservatory, and Kaldur was still baffled by the sheer variety of ways that the surface dwelling races had come up with to poison themselves. Richard patted Kaldur’s arm companionably. ‘Everyone loves Moscato, trust me.’)

Raquel opened the door, eyes wide and slightly crazed. She had a half-eaten stalk of celery in her hand, which Kaldur thought she was holding rather like a large knife. She glanced at Kaldur, then down at wine bottles peeking out of the bag he held. “Zee,” she shouted over her shoulder. “I’m breaking up with you and eloping with Kaldur!”

“What? Why?” Zatanna called back from their living room. “I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t, but why now specifically?”

Raquel tugged Kaldur into the door, lifting his arm up by the wrist to display the bag to her girlfriend. “He brought wine.”

Zatanna hopped up from her spot on the floor. Judging by the array of papers surrounding her Kaldur couldn’t quite guess if she was in the middle of a midterm or a spell. Then again, it was probably both. “Let me see that,” Zatanna muttered, reaching into the bag. “Moscato? Oh, honey, you’re not eloping with Kaldur. _I’m_ eloping with Kaldur.”

Raquel pecked her on the cheek, snatching the other bottle and padding to the kitchen for some glasses. “We’ll do it in Utah. Make it a three-way affair.”

Kaldur cleared his throat. “While I am flattered,” he said, standing stiff and formal, “I am afraid you ladies are too late.”

Zatanna gasped, collapsing back on the couch. “Oh, Kaldur’ahm,” she exclaimed. “Say it isn’t so!”

“Yes,” Kaldur said, voice grave. “I am afraid my heart belongs to...another.”

Wine poured, Raquel set both glasses on the coffee table before draping herself dramatically over the couch arm. The position also, conveniently, allowed her to rest her head against Zatanna’s chest. “And who has stolen our noble knight’s heart?”

Kaldur kept his eyes glued to the wall. “The most beautiful of all beings,” he said grimly. “The sea.”

Zatanna cackled, and Kaldur ducked, laughing, as Raquel launched several couch pillows at his head with a wave of her hand. “You cheeseball!” She yelled, giggling helplessly.

The three of them settled down, the two women scootching aside on the couch to make room for their guest. Kaldur instead chose to sit in the opposite armchair. Zatanna rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t comment. Getting Kaldur to share the couch with them was a battle she and Raquel had stopped trying to fight months ago.

“Thanks for the break,” Zatanna said instead. “I think if I had to memorize one more Sumerian symbol I was going to blow up half the building out of frustration.”

Kaldur shrugged. “I heard from Wally that you two were in need of respite.” He fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his legs at Raquel’s ‘Really?’ look. “And I am in need of your assistance,” he admitted.

Zatanna shifted, settling so Raquel’s head was in her lap. “I don't really have the time to make a charm right now,” she said slowly. “Once Monday is over, I can, but you're going to have to wait until then.”

“It's not time sensitive,” Kaldur assured.

“What is it?” Raquel questioned, smiling contently as Zatanna ran her fingertips through her hair.

Kaldur resisted the urge to touch his neck. He held up a hand, spreading his fingers to emphasize the webbing that joined his fingers. “I would like a charm that allows me to appear human,” he said simply. “I have been at the Conservatory for over half a year now, and while it's been fascinating…” Kaldur trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.

“It wasn't what you had in mind when you came to the surface,” Raquel finished for him. “You want to see what it's actually like up here, huh?”

Kaldur flushed. Raquel had always been disturbingly good at reading him. “Yes.”

Zatanna hmm’d, heels tapping lightly against the couch as the wheels turned over in her head. “This is pretty rude, Kal,” she complained. “Here I am trying to pass my Sumerian Constructs class and you're tossing something _this_ interesting my way.”

Raquel pinched her. “You've got an A, Zee. Trying to play humble when we all know you're a genius. Besides,” Raquel turned to grin wickedly at Kaldur. “Be nice to Kaldur—he’s cute.”

Kaldur flushed. Raquel had enjoyed teasing him since they first met, exclaiming that there was finally someone worth looking at in ‘Grayson’s little posse’. It was harmless, he knew. Raquel and Zatanna had been together since their first year at the American Conservatory for the Sorcerous Arts. Three years later both women were moving into their Master’s studies and were each known in their own right as two of the most powerful sorcerers of their generation.

Zatanna, who was descended from two powerful bloodlines—Turkish on her mother’s side and Italian on her father’s—was an advanced scholar in Ancient Rites and anthropology. Her current work centered around reviving and modernizing rituals from Mesopotamia and Egypt. She was also skilled in the art of enchantment, and supplemented her income as a researcher by selling useful charms.

Raquel’s work was equally brilliant but opposite in direction to her partner’s. She was a leader amongst a growing group of sorcerers who married science and magic in their work. Her area of research was the use of magic to convert kinetic energy into static structures. She had grown up in Dakota City, a major center of industry and home to one of their country’s best known applied physics laboratories, and the influence continued with her when she moved to Gotham to study at the Conservatory.

They had met Kaldur at a seminar on ancient Mesopotamian sorcery. Zatanna had been there for her studies, Raquel for some precious qualtiy time with her girlfriend, and Kaldur in his role as the Atlantean envoy to the Conservatory. They had hit it off at the reception, especially when Zatanna realized that Kaldur was the ‘reserved fish guy’ currently sharing a suite with her close childhood friend Richard Grayson.

Richard Grayson, who was apprenticed to Bruce Wayne. Wayne was a powerful Warlock and one of the few surface dwellers with connections to the Atlantean Royal Family. When Kaldur’ahm had expressed his desire to serve as an envoy to the Surface Realms for Atlantis, Queen Mera had arranged for Kaldur to stay and learn at the American Conservatory for the Sorcerous Arts for his first three years, so that he could gain a understanding of their magic and culture. Wayne had been contacted to serve as Kaldur’s sponsor, a role he could fill as a sitting member of the Council on Magic that governed sorcerous affairs on the Surface.

Kaldur’ahm had lived with Richard at the Conservatory for over half a year at this point, and it was no accident that his and the apprentice’s social circles overlapped almost completely. Wayne was a powerful man with an understandable caution towards the mysterious and secretive Atlanteans, of whom only rumor and conjecture were really well known. He had made sure that his apprentice kept an eye on their visitor.

Kaldur’ahm understood the man’s caution, and was not offended. Atlanteans were secretive, yes, and for good reason. The secret of their hearts and immortality was not something the Atlantean Crown wished to be widely known to those who dwelled on the surface. Atlanteans were powerful, yes. But if enough surface dwellers got it into their mind to search the world’s oceans for the hearts of unbound Atlanteans, it could spell catastrophe for their species.

A sharp rapping on the window interrupted the girls’ teasing and banished the cloud of Kaldur’s thoughts. Kaldur blinked, surprised to see a blonde woman hanging from a rope outside of the living room window.

“I think you have a visitor,” he said, pointing over Zatanna’s shoulder, unsure if this sort of thing even counted as unusual behavior.  Six months on the Surface and Kaldur still found himself constantly awed by the things the people above the sea found ‘normal’.

Zatanna turned, jumping in surprise when she saw the woman making an impatient face at her from outside her window. “Artemis?”

Raquel bolted upright, vaulting the couch to open the window. “Crazy, how many times to I have to tell you to stop appearing outside out of windows?”

The woman slipped nimbly from the rope into the room, flipping her long ponytail over her shoulder and embracing Raquel warmly. “First off? I’m still banned from your campus. Second? I brought a friend. And he’s not exactly fond of authority figures right now. There was no way we were signing in at the front desk.”

Raquel hugged the woman back. “And where’s this friend?”

The woman looked pointedly at Kaldur. “I’ll show you mine when you show me yours. Who’s this?”

Kaldur stood, bowing formally. “My name is Kaldur’ahm of Shayeris. I am of friend of Zatanna and Raquel’s.” He looked up, raising a brow. “And I must assume, so are you.”

Zatanna groaned, sitting up and leaning over the back of the couch. She beckoned the woman over for a hug. “He’s cool, Artemis. Kaldur trusts ‘the man’ here about as much as you do. He’s Atlantean.”

The woman—Artemis—relaxed, giving Zatanna the hug as commanded. “I thought you guys were supposed to be fish people,” she said to Kaldur. “You look pretty normal to me.”

Kaldur sighed, pulling down his high collar with one hand and presenting his spread fingers with the other. It wasn’t the first time a mannerless Surface dweller had inquired about his looks, and he doubted it would be the last. “Some of us look more aquatic than others,” he said, tone level. “Though I do find the assumption odd, considering Atlanteans are not under the impression that Surface dwellers share the traits of land dwelling animals.”

Artemis turned to look at Raquel, who was at this point leaning out the window to try and catch a glimpse of Artemis’ friend. “He’s sassy. I like him.”

“Us too,” Raquel answered, then called up the rope. “Hey! You can come down now—we don’t bite.”

Artemis sighed, pulling back from Zatanna. She leaned out next to Raquel, yanking sharply on the rope. “It’s good, Red!” She called up. “These guys can help.”

Moments later a man slid down the rope, rolling into the room and crouching to stay below the sightlines of the window. “Shut the blinds,” he hissed to Artemis.

She did so, nudging him with her foot once the view to the nighttime cityscape was fully blocked. “Up, you paranoid drama queen.”

The man stood, crossing impressively muscled arms. “It’s not paranoia if they’re after you, Blondie.”

Artemis sighed, grasping the man by the shoulder and tugging him over center of the room. “Ladies, fishsticks, meet Roy Harper. Well, _a_ Roy Harper.”

Zatanna got up from the couch, circling the man who stood tensely. “Weren’t you kidnapped a few years ago?”

“No,” Roy growled out. “The first guy was. I’m just a copy.”

Zatanna flinched back, shooting Artemis a look. “He’s a golem?”

Artemis shook her head. “Not quite. The guy who made him? About as far from a holy man as you can get.”

Roy’s eye twitched. “Right here, lady,” he bit out. “Do I look like a walking piece of pottery to you?”

“Well _excuse_ me!” Zatanna snapped, whirling to face him. “But if you’re not a golem and you’re not the real Roy Harper, anything else you might be is something extremely illegal and not something I want in my apartment!”

“You said they could help me,” Roy growled at Artemis. His eyes darted to the window.

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Well if you’d stop being a rude asshole for like, five seconds, they might actually want to!”

Kaldur decided to step in. The tension in the room was threatening to snap. “My apologies,” he began, standing and stepping over to Roy. “My friend is tired from a long week, and it is late. Let us begin again.” Kaldur extended his hand to the other man, a gesture of welcome and respect he’d picked up from Richard. “My name is Kaldur’ahm of Shayeris. Zatanna and Raquel are good friends of mine, and good people. You will come to no harm here.”

The redhead eyed Kaldur’s hand suspiciously, then cautiously uncrossed his arms to shake it. “You’re a freak too, huh?” he said. “Alright, sure.” He turned to Zatanna and Raquel, begrudgingly chastised. “Sorry. I’ve had a long night, too.” He deflated, releasing Kaldur’s hand to cross his arms again, though now he looked more self-conscious than agitated. “A long week, honestly.”

Zatanna softened. “Okay, yeah, me too,” she admitted. She gestured for Roy to sit on the couch. She moved to join Raquel on the loveseat, where the other woman handled her her still full wineglass. “Thanks, babe.” Zatanna knocked back the full glass, fixing Roy with a patient look when she finished. “Alright. Let’s try this again. Wha—” she caught herself, flinching when Raquel pinched her for being ‘ _rude, Zee_ _._ “Sorry. _Who_ _,_ are you?”

* * *

Roy’s explanation of who he was took half an hour, the time during which Kaldur studied him, fascinated to meet an inhuman Surface dweller.

Roy explained that he was a magical construct, created by a Warlock named Lex Luthor—by their dark looks at the name Kaldur guessed that the man was well known to Raquel and Zatanna, and ill liked—for purposes Roy himself didn’t know.

Zatanna and Raquel listened intently, interrupting occasionally with questions that Roy was reluctant to answer. When they asked how he’d managed to escape Luthor he shrugged, saying only that it wasn’t something he was sure he’d be able to do again if Luthor found him. Kaldur noticed that his eyes seemed to glow brighter when he was uncomfortable or repressing a strong emotion.

Roy was very unwilling to go into the details how Luthor had managed to maintain control of him for the first few months Roy had been cognizant of his own existence. It was an instinct Kaldur could understand—he knew well that it was a dangerous thing to share such information with others. It was hard to trust, when the wrong person learning too much about you could result in your enslavement.

“Alright,” Zatanna finally said, sitting back. “Well, if nothing else you’ve convinced me to help you. No one deserves to be under the thumb of someone like Luthor.”

Roy’s shoulders dropped, tension leaving them. “Thanks,” he said, only a little begrudgingly.

Artemis put a hand on Roy’s shoulder from where she stood behind the couch. “Thanks, Zee. I honestly wasn’t sure who to go to.”

Kaldur interrupted, voicing a question that had been on his mind throughout Roy’s narrative of his escape. “My apologies, but why are you unable to go to the authorities? From Zatanna and Raquel’s reaction, it appears to me that it is this Lex Luthor who has committed a crime, not yourself.”

Roy laughed bitterly. “You really aren’t from around here, are you? Luthor committed a crime, yeah. But I _am_ the crime.”

Raquel snapped her fingers, jostling Zatanna as she sat up straighter in the loveseat. “That’s it! You’re a simulacrum, aren’t you?”

Roy shrugged, uncomfortable. “Fair’s fair. Yeah, got it in one.”

Zatanna looked at Raquel, then back at Roy, confused. “But simulacrums aren’t sentient,” she said. “And, no offense, but you’re way too rude to be anything but. And you’re too...solid.”

Roy froze up, looking up to Artemis with a pleading look in his eyes. She squeeze his shoulder, reassuring. “You can trust them, Red,” she assured.

Roy looked back to Zatanna. “You weren’t...entirely wrong when you asked if I was a golem,” he said begrudgingly. “I’m...kinda both. Luthor made my body from clay, and he put words in my head. But he used necromancy to animate me, not holy magic.”

Zatanna paled. “So the real Roy Harper…”

Roy hung his head, shamed. “Dead, as far as I know.”

A moment of strained silence passed. “You do not appear to be made of clay,” Kaldur ventured.

Roy smiled at him, bitter. “Yeah, two perks to being a necromantic abomination. I got the first guy’s memories,” he said, knocking with his knuckles against the side of his head. “And I at least _look_ human.”

Zatanna looked quizzical, her curious nature getting the better of her. “Can you be injured?”

And like that Roy was back to looking suspicious. “Kind of a personal question, don’t you think?”

Zatanna threw her hands up, placating. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just.” She breathed, trying to find the words.

Artemis found them for her. “Look, Red,” she said to Roy. “Zatanna can help you, but if she doesn’t know what will and won’t hurt you it's going to be hard for her to figure out _how._ We don’t really know how your body or your spirit work. If we’re going to hide you from Luthor we need to figure out how to hide at least one of them.”

“Excuse me if I don’t exactly have a lot of trust for sorcerers right now,” Roy grumbled, curling in on himself. “But...fair point.”

Kaldur sighed, standing from where he had taken his earlier seat. “My apologies,” he said to the group when their eyes turned to him. “But I think all of you are too tired to work through this problem reasonably,” he said, eyeing Roy in particular. The redhead was obviously exhausted, and it was keeping him from thinking clearly. “The quarters I share with an absent roommate are closed to the larger Conservatory populace and have been well warded in deference to my King’s wishes that I not be observed or spied upon during my stay here. I would like to extend the offer for the two of you,” he gestured to Artemis and Roy, “To rest there until Monday evening. By then Zatanna and Raquel should be recovered, and you can productively seek a solution to your troubles.”

Kaldur himself was suprised at his readiness to help this almost total stranger. But on a certain level it made sense to help this Roy Harper. He too had been in positions where he felt to be an outsider, unknowing of who to trust. The first few weeks in the Corps he had been cautious of his squadmates and instructor—he was the only member of the group with any noticeable aquatic traits, and he had heard horrible tales hazing and violence against other Shayerin recruits. It had only been Tula’s—and later, Garth’s—kindness that had allowed him to emerge from his metaphorical shell and feel his somewhat belonged amongst his peers.  

That it would also give Kaldur a chance to finally interact with Surface dwellers outside of the Conservatory or magical community was merely an added bonus. He was not restricted to campus, of course. But he was the first to admit that his own reserved nature made meeting new people difficult. Especially outside of formalized structures like those he had spent his entire young adult life in. And, despite their brief acquaintance and rather incomplete introduction, Artemis and Roy already seemed _fascinating_.

Artemis looked at Kaldur, approving. “I was thinking that I should take Red here back to my place for some rest. But your campus is _definitely_ safer from Luthor or his goons. We accept.”

Roy turned, glaring at her. “Like hell we do!”

She glared right back. “You’re not spending another night sitting at my kitchen table and waiting for Luthor to come for you, Roy,” she bit out. “I know you don’t actually sleep but you haven’t had any rest at _all_ and it’s making you irrational. If Kaldur has a safe place for you to stay it’d be stupid not to take him up on it!”

Roy stood up, fully facing her. “And how do we know we can trust him?”

Artemis threw her hands in the air. “Because Zee and Raquel do, okay? Look, you took a chance when you chose to trust me. And _I_ trust _them_.”

Kaldur stepped forward, laying his hand gently on Roy’s shoulder. The man whirled on him, eyes wide and glowing. Kaldur stood firm. “I will allow no harm to come to you,” he promised solemnly, holding Roy’s eyes steadily with his own. “You have my word.”

Roy inhaled shakily, fists gripped tightly as his side. “I don’t know you,” he said, blunt. “For all I know your _word_ could be worthless.” He glanced over he shoulder, back at Artemis’s pleading expression. “But, okay. We accept.”

Kaldur smiled, soft. He squeezed Roy’s shoulder. “It will be two days before Raquel and Zatanna will be in a position to help you,” he assured. “In that time, I would be glad to get to know you.”

* * *

Two days passed, but on the promised Monday evening the group found that their options for keeping Roy safe from Luthor were far from optimal. Roy’s body was animated by Luthor’s magic, and erasing the Words inscribed on the roof of Roy’s mouth would risk dispelling that magic entirely.

Leaving the Words meant that Luthor would still have control over Roy if he found him again. Artemis, who Kaldur had learned was a Mundane by nature and a Hunter by trade, offered up the practical solution of creating earplugs Roy could use to block the sound of Luthor’s voice. It seemed like a decent solution, at least until Zatanna performed a closer examination of Roy’s body.

“You’re not like a normal human,” she said, diplomatically ignoring Roy’s whispered ‘ _yeah, no shit’_. She was examining Roy’s arm where the simulacrum had allowed her to peel back a layer of his skin to examine his flesh. It was the same light brown material all the way through, no blood vessels or bones.

“You look like you have ears, but you don’t actually hear through them. Your hearing is from magic.” She sealed up his arm, pressing the seam closed and smoothing over the incision with water until his skin was as whole as it had been before he’d allowed her to partially dissect him. “Earplugs aren’t gonna cut it. Frankly, I’m surprised you need rest.”

Roy rubbed his skin, self conscious but more relaxed than he’d been mere days ago. He’d had time to get to know Kaldur, and had come to the conclusion the Atlantean would have little to gain from turning him in to Luthor or the Council.

While the famous Bruce Wayne’s apprentice was supposedly Kaldur’s roommate—it should be noted that in two days Roy saw not hide nor hair of Richard Grayson, a figure he distantly recalled from stolen memories—Kaldur himself seemed to have little but cautious respect for the Council’s power. He didn’t seem overly concerned with their rules or what they’d think of a simulacrum like Roy. Roy supposed that it was a result of the moderate distrust that existed between the Surface realms and Atlantis.

Either way, he’d spent two days in the Atlantean’s apartment and come to no harm. Zatanna and Raquel had so far declined to turn him in either. He was by no means certain of anything like loyalty from the three, but the sanctuary they had so far extended was enough to earn begrudging trust. “Don’t look at me,” he shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have much of a say in the process.”

Zatanna sat back, eyeing Roy appraisingly. “No. And since we can’t figure out a way to give you more of say without killing you, we need to find a way to hide you. The charm Artemis gave you will only hide your magical signature for a couple of weeks at a time, and the materials she used aren’t exactly easy to get ahold of.”

Raquel looked up from the text she and Kaldur had been poring through. “We just need to hide his signature, right? Wayne isn’t exactly fond of Luthor, so as long as Red here sticks to Gotham he should be easy enough to keep out of physical sight.”

Artemis, who knew very little about magic or magical constructs aside from ways to disrupt and destroy them, looked up from re-stringing her bow. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said slowly. “Luthor has a lot of influence, even in Gotham. If one of his goons spotted Roy it’d be as bad as Luthor tracking him down through his signature.”

Kaldur hmm’d, an idea coming to mind. “The night you arrived I had asked Zatanna to create a charm for me that would hide my appearance,” he admitted to Roy. “I have already gathered the necessary materials for one that would last several years. They’re hard to get on the Surface, but they are common enough in Atlantis.” Kaldur turned to Zatanna. “Could they be used for Roy, instead?”

Zatanna looked dubious. “I’ve never made anything with Atlantean materials before,” she said. “Are you even sure my enchantments would work?”

Kaldur reconsidered. “No,” he admitted. “I am not.” He was quiet, turning the problem over in his mind. Ah, of course. “But I might know who could tell us,” he continued, flushing with guilt. It had been... months since he had last contacted Garth and Tula. To contact them only now, when he required a favor, felt inexcusably rude.

 _Then again,_ he thought, self-deprecating _, I have_ **_been_ ** _inexcusably rude._

“How would you feel about a teleconference with an Atlantean sorcerer?”

* * *

Tula had been able to, again, come to Kaldur’s rescue. Only after taking a few minutes to chew him out through the two way mirror she had gifted him when he had left, of course.

With Tula’s help Zatanna was able to construct a charm from the kraken bone and seasilk that Kaldur had collected. It would hide Roy’s signature from anyone more than a few feet from him, and would alter his appearance to anyone besides Artemis, Raquel, Zatanna, and Kaldur himself.

After that Roy and Artemis were able to return to Artemis’s apartment, though Kaldur extended the invitation for them to stay with him whenever they liked. He shared a full suite of rooms at the Conservatory with Richard Grayson, but the younger man was often absent, flitting in and out only occasionally. After years living in Corps barracks and the Academy dorms it had been comforting to have roommates again.

The pair accepted, though often enough it was Roy alone who ended up staying the night. Artemis’s apartment was respectable but small, and the simulacrum admitted with some embarrassment that it felt claustrophobic to share the space when Artemis was asleep.

“It's like if I turn the page of a book too quickly I’ll wake her up,” he admitted to Kaldur one day, watching idly from the couch as Kaldur stepped through a _kata_ in the Atlantean’s spacious living room. The smooth series of kicks, punches, and ducks that Richard had taught him helped Kaldur center himself. It was different than the training he was used to—Atlanteans rarely fought unarmed. But it was similar enough to swordplay in motion that it served the same mental function. “At least with you I don’t have to worry about sound travelling.”

Kaldur paused mid-strike, eyeing the man with amusement. “Are you referring to the soundproof walls or the ill conceived notion you people have that I sleep in a bathtub?”

Roy snorted, throwing a pillow at Kaldur’s face. The Atlantean knocked it from the air, stepping back into the flow of his exercise. “Sound proof walls, huh?” He leered. “And what do you _mean_ , ‘you people'?”

Roy became a fixture in Kaldur’s life, even more so than any of the other friends Kaldur had made on the Surface. He spent more nights in Kaldur’s quarter’s than Kaldur’s actual roommate. Richard mentioned the man he saw frequently in the apartment only in passing, and really only to tease Kaldur.

“Morning, Kal,” Richard  greeted one day through a mouthful of toast while making a rare appearance in their shared kitchen. Richard—or Dick, as he liked to be called for reasons beyond Kaldur’s imagination to Zatanna’s endless amusement—waited until Kaldur had begun sipping his morning tea to continue. “Hey, is that guy you have over all the time even human?”

Kaldur didn’t sputter into his tea, though it was a close thing. “Quite certain,” he lied, looking at Dick directly. “Why? His manners are terrible, but surely he hasn’t managed to offend you enough to warrant such insinuations.”

Dick shrugged, swallowing the last bite of his toast and washing it down with milk. The man avoided caffeine on the regular, calling it an ‘emergency measure’. “Not really. I just keep finding him chugging boiling coffee at three a.m. Kinda weird.”

Kaldur peered at Dick over his tea, easing a gently amused eyebrow. “You room with a literal sea monster,” he reminded Dick.

Dick shrugged. “Yeah, but that's like. _Gotham_ weird.”

“And chugging gallons of hot caffeinated water in the late night is what kind of weird, exactly?”

Dick sat back, contemplating the ceiling and, Kaldur assumed, the state of his existence. “Point,” he admitted. It wasn't the end of his occasional questions about Roy, but it was the last one regarding Roy’s ‘what’ instead of his ‘who’.

It didn't keep the sex jokes at bay, for instance. The boy was, after all, still a teenager and was inordinately curious about Atlantean sexuality.

Their little group grew close over the semester, with Roy and Artemis occasionally (and then not-so-occasionally) enlisting Kaldur’s help in their hunts for dangerous magical creatures around Gotham. Artemis an officiated Hunter, contracted by the city to keep the streets safe from monsters and escaped constructs. Kaldur had been hesitant at first, considering he hardly counted as ‘human’ and Roy was technically an escaped construct himself. But the majority of the monsters they ended up hunting were non-sentient, and none of the constructs demonstrated intelligence like Roy’s. Sometimes Zatanna and Raquel would accompany them, delighting in the chance to put their skills to practical use after weeks of grueling theory and research.

Roy and Kaldur grew closer especially, bonding over their shared status as outsiders to Surface affairs and their preferences for privacy. They each had their own reasons for preferring to remain anonymous from most people, so when the girls would ‘go out’ Kaldur and Roy usually ended up on Kaldur’s large couch, taking advantage of the entertainment center the Conservatory had provided for Kaldur’s ‘cultural’ education. They watched bad movies, catching Kaldur up on Surface culture and Roy up on what he had missed since his original had been kidnapped three years ago.

Roy was the first person Kaldur had met on the surface who never mistook his reserved manner for being shy. He had a way of drawing out Kaldur’s more judgemental observations about the Surface. He delighted in them, calling Kaldur ‘sassy’ and deliberately provoking sarcasm from the Atlantean as often as possible.

Kaldur, for his part, understood Roy’s gruff manner better than anyone in their close circle. The redhead reminded him at times of some of the older, professional warriors in the Corps. He didn’t expect Roy to be overtly demonstrative of affection and respected the simulacrum’s long silences, not trying to force conversation or attempting to use humor to shock him out of them. It led to Roy gradually opening up to him, sharing memories of his ‘life’ before and his anxieties, both things he normally kept closely guarded.

Affairs continued in this manner, with Kaldur growing closer to his newfound family and learning more of the Surface than he’d ever really imagined.

And then a patrol in Gotham’s harbor went terribly right, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

The night had begun fairly normally. Zatanna had declined to join them on their patrol. She had a friend-date with Richard that night. The two had been close since childhood, and Richard had complained recently that he never seemed to see her anymore, despite them going to the same school.

So it was just the four of them - Artemis, Roy, Raquel, and Kaldur. Artemis hadn’t been issued any specific mission from the Gotham police that night, so instead they decided to patrol along the docks. Kaldur knew from experience that feral, sea dwelling creatures had a bad habit of seeking out human prey in high-magical signature cities like Gotham, and there had been whispers of recent disappearances in the area.

What they found was much more troubling than a rogue siren or grindylow, however.

“Well that’s not suspicious,” Roy said, pointing to an armored vehicle parked outside an abandoned warehouse.

Artemis shrugged. “It’s Gotham,” she dismissed. “But we can check it out. If it's not the kind of thing we’re supposed to handle, we can call the PD.”

It turned out to be something no one was equipped to handle, except maybe the Council. From their view atop an adjacent building, the group could see inside the warehouse. It was mostly empty, save for a strange pod, which was being wheeled out the doors and towards the armored van by armed guards.

Roy grasped Kaldur’s arm, blunt nails biting the Atlantean’s thick skin. “I recognize those fuckers,” he whispered. “Those are Luthor’s goons.”

Artemis nocked an arrow, aiming for the feet of the guard wheeling the pod towards the van. “That thing looks human sized,” she said quietly. “Red, you get the guys on the door. Rocket,” she addressed Raquel, using the nickname the woman had earned after one of her spells had sent a particularly nasty wendigo crashing through three solid concrete walls. “Shield the windows, keep them from firing on us. Kal, get ready to rush. We need to free whoever’s in that pod.”

The plan worked well. Artemis’s arrow expelled a short burst of gas that knocked out the first guard and obscured the vision of the rest. Kaldur—immune to most toxins—was able to vault to the ground and get to the pod. Inside was a boy of about sixteen years, seemingly asleep.

The trouble came when Kaldur opened the pod, intending to carry the boy to safety.

His eyes snapped open the moment the pod did. He leaped, roaring, and began attacking the guards.

Roy leapt down from the building, disarming the guards as they tried to shoot at the boy. While a good idea in theory, it was then that things began to go horribly wrong.

Kaldur watched in horror as the boy put his fist through one of their armored torsos, screaming in rage before tossing the body aside.

“Holy shit,” Roy yelled, running towards the boy. “Calm down! Hey, cal—”

The boy grabbed Roy by the shoulder, twisting until there was a sickening _crack_ , then tossing the simulacrum through the wall of the warehouse. Roy went straight through, landing in a heap on the ground outside. Raquel leapt to the ground, rushing to his side.

Kaldur, briefly distracted by his concern for Roy, almost didn’t notice when the boy turned on him.

The first missed blow shattered the support structure Kaldur had been standing next to, raining debris on their heads as Kaldur rolled out of the way.

“Kaldur!” Artemis shouted, “Get out of there!”

Kaldur dodged past the boy, sprinting out the door as the boy slammed into the concrete where Kaldur had been mere moments ago, leaving a sizeable dent.

As Kaldur cleared the door an arrow sailed by him. Seconds later the building collapsed, glass and debris blowing outwards as the magical charges inside of them detonated in the dilapidated structure.

Kaldur had just managed to duck into Raquel’s force shield, a bubble that shielded her and her surroundings from sight and sound. It also used light to refract the world around them, essentially rendering anything inside the bubble invisible.

Raquel, it should be stated again, was a very, _very_ talented kinetimancer.

Artemis joined them a moment later, abandoning her position on the roof to check on Roy. “What the fuck was that thing?” She demanded, handing him one of the tubes she kept tucked into her quiver—a vial of magic infused clay.

“Looked like the same thing as me,” Roy grunted, accepting the tube. “That should be enough to slow him down, but probably not kill him. Hopefully his head wasn’t crushed.” Roy turned to Raquel, who was maintaining the force field. “You got that charm Zee made? The one for subduing sentients?”

“In my pocket,” Raquel murmured. “Now hush, I’m keeping this thing up for a bit in case any more of Luthor’s goons show up and it takes a lot of focu—”

She was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a large iron girder, which flew overhead as the ruins of the warehouse shifted violently.

“Holy shit,” Artemis whispered, eyes wide as they watched the boy emerge from the wreckage of the warehouse. Her fingernails bit into Kaldur's forearm, her terror leaving dents in his thick skin. “We just dropped a _building_ on him and there isn't even a scratch.”

Kaldur darted a glance at Roy. The simulacrum shrugged back at him, smearing wet clay into the missing chunk of his shoulder where the boy had thrown him. “Must be a newer model,” Roy replied. The wet clay appeared to boil in his wound, bubbling and changing color until it melded in with his skin. A few seconds, and it looked like the shoulder had never been injured at all. Roy continued. “I repair easy but I still break.”

Kaldur watched as the boy shook off the last of the dust, eyes casting out to find them. As long as they stayed in the radius of Raquel’s spell he shouldn't be able to hear or see them. “You are certain he is of your same maker?”

Roy snorted. “Unless someone else is experimenting with necromancy and alchemy to create indestructible, human looking simulacrums? Yeah, I’m sure.”

Kaldur sheathed his swords, gently brushing Artemis’s hand from his arm. He stepped around her to Raquel, taking Zatanna’s rosary from her pocket while she continued to focus on maintaining their cover, eyes alight with the violet of her magic.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Artemis hissed, still eyeing the boy warily. He had begun to leap around the rubble, tossing chunks of buildings out of his way as he searched for their hiding place.

Kaldur looked at Roy, then back at Artemis. “When you first met Roy you said he was angry and terrified—”

“—Artemis you _shit—”_ Roy interrupted, trying and failing to clap his partner on the side of the head.

Kaldur held up a hand, firmly demanding that he be allowed to finish. “You said he needed your help,” Kaldur continued to Artemis, reaching out and squeezing her hand reassuringly. “If this boy is of the same maker, perhaps he too is in need of help.”

Both archers looked at him like he was wearing a squid on his head. “Roy was at least verbal,” Artemis said slowly, as if to a child. “He never outright attacked anyone. That thing is _feral.”_

“He'll kill you,” Roy said bluntly. “We can’t get close enough to get Zee’s draining charm on him without risking him killing one of us. I’m tough, but even I'll die if he smashes my head in.”

Kaldur shook his head. “I won't,” he said simply, then ran out of the circle before either of them could attempt to stop them. He was certain that if it wasn't for Raquel’s ward he would hear them screaming at him to get back to the circle. As it was all he heard was the roar of the boy as he spotted Kaldur sprinting toward him.

The boy leaped, launching himself high in the air before smashing into the ground immediately in front of Kaldur. Kaldur dodged to the left, barely avoiding being crushed.

“Peace, friend,” Kaldur shouted, twisting to avoid another blow as the the snarling boy began to chase him around the parking lot. “I mean you no harm.”

Either the boy couldn't hear him, didn't understand him, or simply didn't care. His eyes were crazed, alight with the same blue glow of the enchantment that animated Roy.

Kaldur continued to duck and roll, dodging blows that shattered the asphalt. He thanked the gods that he’d allowed Dick to spend the first three months of his tenure on land running him through the apprentice’s ridiculous acrobatics regimen.

They continued in this manner for what felt like hours—in addition to being stronger than Roy, this simulacrum was faster, and seemingly inexhaustible. Finally, Kaldur felt he had learned enough of the boy’s movements to go in for his next move. He drew Zatanna’s rosary from his pocket, ducking quickly under the boy’s arm to slip the beads over his head.

He miscalculated, however. A fact that came home to him with a sickening, wet crunch as the boy’s fist punched through his ribs and out his back, narrowly missing his spine.

Kaldur crumpled immediately, white hot agony blinding him. The boy fell beside him on his hands and knees, panting harshly as Zatanna’s charm sucked the energy out of him.

Shocked blue eyes stared down into Kaldur’s, awareness dawning as the frantic sparks of magic that danced around tan skin dissipated. “Who are you,” the boy demanded. His voice sounded like someone had gone at his throat with shards of glass, shredding it until there was nothing but scar tissue. It was like he’d never spoken before.

For all Kaldur knew, he never had.

Kaldur grit his teeth, willing his gills to stop flapping uselessly in the open air, trying to bypass the wreck of his shredded lung. He managed to shift his hand, reaching across the ground to weakly grasp the boy’s hand in his own. It was sticky with Kaldur’s own gore and viscera. The boy didn’t flinch.

“A friend,” Kaldur choked out, before darkness took him.

* * *

Half a day later Kaldur woke up in Artemis’s apartment, fully healed from his injuries. Artemis, ashen faced and sick from relief, had been the only one there. She explained that Raquel and Roy had taken the boy to Zatanna’s father’s house out in the city limits once they'd ascertained that Kaldur was in no real danger. The pain had been enough to knock him out, but by the time Roy had rushed over to him when he fell his wound had already sealed over.

She also explained that immortality is the kind of thing _‘_ _you tell your fucking friends about before you charge into a death match, you self sacrificial fuck_ _._ She explained this rather sternly, while furiously hitting him repeatedly with a throw pillow.

When Roy and Raquel returned sans simulacrum, Raquel hugged Kaldur and smacked him upside the head. Which was a fair reaction, in Kaldur’s estimation.

Roy, however, avoided Kaldur’s gaze and flat out refused to speak to him. Which was, frankly, a lot more upsetting than having a lung punched out.

But they had bigger problems to deal with, as Raquel would go on to explain. Like the fact that the simulacrum they had found was a copy of Clark Kent, a sitting High Magister on the Council of Magic. And that Bruce Wayne knew about him, and about Roy, and was _not_ happy about being kept in the dark.


	3. i want no world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council of Magic has their say, Roy has a crisis, and Kaldur falls in love. Which, for once, is convenient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very, very late and I will be genuinely pleased/surprised if anyone still cares about this story. But some inspiration finally struck and helped me beat my writers block back into the cramped closet where it belongs, so. Here you all are, much overdue: the third chapter of my over-wrought romance between two monsterboys who aren't quite sure how to be people, let alone how to love each other.

Kaldur had known since the day he met her that Artemis Nguyen was a soul kindred to Tula--bold, with a moral center of steel and a complete lack of fear in the face of authority.

So he was un-surprised when, in the course of the Council’s interrogation of their group, she took it upon herself to defend Roy. By arguing with the entire Council in the center of their own chambers.

Artemis stood at parade rest--Kaldur had yet to learn much about his friend’s past, but it was obvious she’d had military or paramilitary training at some point--and addressed the long table that sat the councilmembers.

“Roy came to me for help. He hadn’t hurt anyone, and wasn’t going to. He was lucid, and passed every standard test for sentience. He’d been put through enough, and he didn’t want to become some project or weapon for you to poke and prod and shut away forever. I made a judgement call, and I stand by it.”

“The city doesn’t pay you to make judgement calls,” High Magister Kent admonished. “When you realized what the simulacrum was, you should have brought it to the Council. We are the elected heads of the magical community--it is _ours_ to make decisions about world altering magical anomalies. Especially when public safety is at stake!”

“ _Him_ ,” Artemis bit out, knuckles white, her fingers digging into her palms.

High Magister Kent raised a brow. “Pardon?”

“Him,” Artemis snarled. “Roy isn’t an it. He’s a _person_ , and he’s standing right here.”

High Magister Kent removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No matter how sophisticated the construct may be, Hunter Nguyen, it is still just that--a construct.”

Kaldur began to worry that Artemis’s nails would tear through her own flesh, leave bloody grimaces of anger smeared against her skin. “Not Roy. Do you know any simularcrums that can operate independently for months?”

High Magister Kent folded his hands in front of him, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll admit that the level of sophistication in his programming is unusual—”

“How long has he been in the city?” Magister Queen interrupted. The man had been fiddling with a braided black bracelet on his right wrist since the group had been escorted to the Council’s chamber and the interrogation had commenced. He’d picked at the black strings, shooting searching, desperate looks at Roy.

“Why does he look like Roy? Why do you look like my brot—” Magister Queen broke off, biting his own words and sucking a deep breath that trembled through his body. “--why do you look like my apprentice?”

Magister Lance lay a hand on Magister Queen’s arm, eyes gently. “Oliver…”

“They made me from him,” Roy interrupted, stepping forward. His eyes were fixed on Queen’s face, mouth drawn tight with answering grief. “I’ve only been in the city for four months. I don’t really know how long I...was...before I managed to get out. But they made sure I knew what I was, who I was modelled after. Even gave me his old memories. But there was never any trace of him, not that they let me see. I’m sorry.”

High Magister Wayne spoke at last. He had maintained his silence thus far, content to take in Artemis’s testimony as the the rest of the Council fired off rapid questions. “You claim to have Roy Harper’s memories?”

Roy inclined his head. “I do.”

High Magister Wayne turned to his left, addressing a dark skinned man near the end of the table. The man was dressed in a modern-cut suit, a clear contrast to the Magisters’ plain black robes. “J’ohnn. Would you be willing to verify?”

The man--J’ohnn J’onzz, Kaldur realized, the infamous off-worlder, a natural shapeshifter with inherent telepathic magics and Ambassador between Earth and Mars--inclined his head gravely. “With the subject’s consent.”

Roy crossed his arms, head held high. “Will it convince you?”

High Magister Wayne regarded him, mouth thin. “It will help.”

Roy nodded, turning to the Ambassador. “Do it.”

J’onzz nodded, and stood, hands folded primly behind his back. He stared at Roy intently, eyes taking on a bright green glow. Glancing to the side, Kaldur could see Roy’s own eyes glowing a brighter blue in response. J’onzz frowned, brow furrowing. After a few minutes he sat back, eyes returning to his normal color.

Roy’s own glow faded, fingers digging into the flesh of his crossed arms, hard enough to sink in. “That didn’t feel like anything.”

J’onzz sighed. “That is because I was unable to establish a psychic link with you. My species has never run across a sentient species impenetrable to us, not without training. I am sorry.”

Roy flinched back, hands going to his sides in defensive fists.”No! I’m sentient--I’m a person. Not just some--thing!”

High Magister Wayne regarded Roy gravely. “Ambassador J’onzz is the most competent telepath on Earth.”

Artemis jumped in. “Who knows what sort of crap Luthor put in his head--he could be warded against telepathy for all we know,” she asserted, gesturing sharply. “If Luthor had been able to use Roy the way we think he intended--to replace Magister Oliver’s original apprentice--he’d want to keep his asset protected from the Ambassador. He’d be an idiot _not_ to ward him. This doesn’t prove anything!”

“It is true that this is nothing we have ever seen before,” interjected High Magister Diana. “In all my years of life have never come across such a construct.”

“Which is exactly why we need to study him and the copy of Kent! We have no idea what we’re dealing with,” argued Magister Allen.

Kaldur regarded the seated Magisters. It seemed that the majority had resolved their decision, and not in Roy’s favor. It would be his to protect his friend. He stepped forward. “If I may address the Council?”

High Magister Wayne raised a brow. “That depends. Are you addressing us as a representative of Atlantis, or as an illegal vigilante who has abused our courtesy for months?”

 _As if you didn’t know what we were up to, with us operating out of your own building,_ Kaldur thought, keeping his expression carefully blank. “As a representative of the Crown of Atlantis.”

High Magister Wayne looked to High Magister’s Diana and Kent. High Magister Diana nodded her consent, always one to favor allowing Kaldur to say his piece. Though Atlantis and Themyscira were not historically close allies, she acknowledged their mutual interests as ancient, magical cultures in a world where modern magics had taken more and more prominence and power. It was better that they stand together, when possible.

High Magister Kent nodded as well, albeit more reluctantly. As an off-worlder raised in the Surface Realms, his own position was still precarious. He was more bullheaded than High Magister Diana, but he knew that he, too, could not afford to establish a precedent where only Surface Realm interests were respected by the Council of Magic.

High Magister Wayne gestured for Kaldur to continue, steepling his fingers pensively.

Kaldur nodded, crossing his arms behind his back formally to indicate his respect for the Council. He had diplomatic privileges, yes, but he could not afford to be rude. Any misconduct on his part would likely be laughed off by their Majesties, but his mother would be far less amused.

“Constructs such as Roy are not unheard of in Atlantean history,” Kaldur began. “There is at least one record of such a construct who achieved sentience, over two thousand years ago. She lived a full life, and contributed greatly to our culture in her capacity as a citizen. It is our belief that Roy and the boy we rescued on the docks are similar to her in both construction, and potential.”

High Magister Diana regarded him, gaze steady. “Themyscira has long regarded the story of the artificer Pygmalion as one of myth.”

Kaldur inclined his head. “Our cultures differ in that respect. Our...records regard Galalea as a historic figure rather than a myth.” Nevermind that she and Queen Mera were the best of friends--Surface dwellers knew that Atlanteans were long lived. Exactly how long lived was a secret the Crown guarded closely.

Magister Lance sighed. “We get it, both of you are from secretive, ancient species that are allergic to sharing. Your _point_ , Kaldur’ahm?”

Kaldur straightened, a ball of nervousness forming in his stomach. What he was about to do was technically within his rights, but there was no small chance he would be reprimanded later. Perhaps even recalled from the surface and replaced by a less impulsive envoy. This could be the end of his time on the Surface, of his lifelong dream only a barely realized.

But he could see Roy’s strained posture in the corner of his vision. The fear in the line of his body. And, most painful, the hope in his eyes as he turned to look at Kaldur, belied by the disbelief that not one, but _two_ people would stand for him against the Council.

Kaldur hoped that one day Roy would learn to trust in the loyalty of his friends. And he was determined that the simulacron live free long enough to do so.

Kaldur raised a forearm to his forehead in formal Atlantean salute. “I am extending Atlantean citizenship to both subjects of this inquiry, under the authority delegated to me by the Crown. Any further imprisonment or involuntary questions of their persons may occur only upon coordination with the Atlantean government, and they are henceforth to be granted Full Rites of sentience under the Treaty of Athens, 1945.”

Magister Queen rose quickly, his chair falling behind him with a loud clatter. “You can’t do that!”

Kaldur’s expression remained stony. “You will find that I can. If you wish to speak further to either of the Atlantean subjects in question, you may contact our embassy.”

High Magister Wayne regarded Kaldur over steepled fingers, expression unreadable. “You do know that this will have consequences.”

Kaldur lowered his forearm, returning to parade posture. “That will be between myself and the Crown. Their Majesties trust my judgement.”

* * *

“You overstepped your privileges, Kaldur’ahm,” King Orin said gravely through the two-way mirror that served as Kaldur’s method of contacting Atlantis. Kaldur flinched, but managed to maintain respectful eye-contact with the stone wall over his King’s shoulder. Though reserved, the admonishment was the equivalent of King Orin shouting that Kaldur was out of his depths damned mind.

“My apologies, my King. But I thought that the actions would align with the Crown’s interests, considering the circumstances.”

Beside King Orin, Queen Mera sighed, laying a soothing hand on her husband’s shoulder. “While you are not incorrect, it was presumptuous of you not to contact us. We have placed you in your position because we value your judgement and temperament, Kaldur’ahm. Such impulsiveness...it is out of your character.”

“You have made it clear in the past that the Surface Dweller’s strict definitions of personhood concern you,” Kaldur argued. “There are some amongst our citizens who would not meet their current requirements. I saw a chance to expand their definition, at least with regard to Atlantean citizens. I will apologize for not consulting you, but not for my intent or my actions.”

Queen Mera raised a brow. “Your protege seems to have grown bolder under the Surface’s sun, Orin,” she commented to her husband. Her tone was carefully neutral, and to some the words would read as admonishing. But Kaldur had had the chance to grow more familiar with his monarchs over the last year--approval edged her voice. He straightened his spine, shrugging back his shoulders.

King Orin looked less amused. “Bold, my Queen. And perhaps more foolish for it.”

Kaldur bowed, flushing lightly. “Again, my apologies, my King. Nothing of this like will happen again.”

King Orin sighed, waving away the last of Kaldur’s empty remorse with irritation. “I hope you realize that you have put us in an awkward position. For the sake of diplomatic relations, we cannot allow the simulacrums to stay in the embassy indefinitely.”

Kaldur bristled, panic cutting through his formal bearing. “My King—“

Queen Mera silenced him with a gesture. “Peace, Kaldur’ahm. We are not going to break hospitality and expel them onto the streets. Either we will need to reach a compromise with the Council, or your friends will have to come and live in Atlantis.”

Kaldur paused, considering. From what their group had been able to glean of Roy’s physiology, the simulacrum did not require air to breath. His counterpart may be another matter--Kaldur’s fight with the other simulacrum had already proven there were differences between his and Roy’s constructions.

Aside from the practical concerns, Kaldur allowed himself to consider whether Roy would consent to exile in Atlantis. The surface world was all the other man knew, from both his stolen memories and his own short existence. Kaldur doubted he would be eager to leave it for a place as alien as Atlantis.

Kaldur sighed, forcing the tense anger in his shoulders down and away from his body. He looked at his King and Queen steadily, settling back into the role of the obedient protege. “What kind of compromise, your Highnesses?”

* * *

The first part of the compromise turned out to be that Roy would allow a limited examination by the Chief Artificer of the Council, Magister Smith. The man submitted begrudgingly, but with the condition that Kaldur and the rest of his companions be present. He had only vague memories of his time under Luthor’s influence, but he remembered enough to be wary of any Artificer with a scalpel and grimoire.

The newly found simulacrum had gained coherency during the trial under the influence of Zatanna’s calming charms and Raquel’s lab, which was warded against telepathic magics. He made it known that he was, in fact, made in the image of High Magister Kent but had no interest in following through with his master’s plan to replace and usurp the Kryptonian. As Artemis’s vigilante group had been the ones to find and rescue the simulacrum, the Crown felt it was appropriate that they be the ones charged with his safety and adaptation to normal life.

The final element of the deal was the addition of a new member to their group--M’gann M’orzz, the niece of Ambassador J’onzz and a powerful telepath. Her role was to be dual in nature--a recent immigrant from Mars herself, she would help the new simulacrum--Conner, as he had named himself— adapt to life outside the workshop he was created in. SHe would also serve as detection and protection against any psychic magics like the ones that had influenced Conner during their team’s first encounter with him.

Roy and Conner would be restricted to Gotham while on the Surface, with limited privileges in Poseidonis. Despite the Crown’s granting of their Atlantean citizenship, the two were still outsiders. Atlantis had guarded its secrets closely for millennia, and though Queen Mera felt sympathy for the two simulacrums the Crown intended to continue its tradition of secrecy.

Their lives continued in a sort of semi-normalcy from there. As a consequence of his betrayal of the Council’s trust and vigilante activities, Kaldur was asked to relocate to the Atlantean embassy. The Atlantean acquiesced with grace, though the move itself was more a formality than anything. The bulk of his time was split between Raquel and Zatanna’s flat on campus and Artemis’s apartment. Conner for his part preferred the solitude of the Atlantean embassy--in reality a modest but heavily warded apartment building just off of campus proper, outfitted with the necessary requirements to make living comfortable for even the most aquatic Atlanteans and not much else--to either location. After a few weeks of adaptation with M’gann, however, he began to spend more time with the group, agreeing at least to accompany them on missions.

Artemis continued her employment as one of Gotham’s Hunters, and the rest of the team’s night time activities also continued. Now, however, they were given specific tasks by the Council. In spite of their public punishment of Kaldur and admonishment of Zatanna and Raquel, the Council were not fools. Roy and Conner’s presence in the city--which had gone undetected by the Council’s own forces for months, if not longer--indicated that there was a gap in the Council’s current capabilities. Though powerful, their methods were often flashy, and subject to a certain amount of press attention.

The team that Artemis had gathered, by contrast, had allegedly escaped the Council’s own attention for months (Kaldur uses the term allegedly because, like Artemis, he highly doubted much actually escapes the attention of High Magister Wayne. It was far too convenient that Dick, the man’s own ward, just happened to never notice or mention that Kaldur's guest was very much not human). So the team existed in a limbo space--not officially sanctioned or empowered by the Council, but allowed to continue their activities so long as they stayed within the bounds of the Council’s interests.

The arrangement caused no small amount of resentment amongst the team. Zatanna and Raquel, especially, did not appreciate that nothing of what they learned from Roy and Conner was allowed to be admitted into any academic papers they published. Artemis had flatly demanded that the Council provide a stipend for outfitting their team with necessary equipment, and increase her salary. If she was expected to head a team rather than operate solo, she expected to be paid like it.

Despite the friction between their group and the Council, there were many places where their interests aligned. Particularly when it came to the exposure of Lex Luthor.

For weeks the team scoured the city and beyond, looking for clues into Roy and Conner’s origins. A trip back to the docks where Conner had been found yielded nothing. From video footage of the truck arriving to the docks to the ownership record of the warehouse, every trace of Luthor and his known affiliates had been wiped. The only proof that Luthor had done anything at all were Conner and Roy. Who, as beings not formally classed as sentient by the Council or the wider ruling body of the United Nations, could not submit testimony to court.

Still, the team continued to search. As they did, they learned more about one another. It was slow going, especially in concerns to Conner, but by the end of the first month since their Council interrogation, Kaldur had the sense that his group of friends were becoming something like a family.

That was, of course, until the incident.

* * *

It was yet another warehouse search. After a month and a half of dozen or so of such searches, each of them fruitless, they had settled into a routine.

Something that Kaldur should have remembered from his days in militia: routine is dangerous. In regards to the enemy, it is the same thing as complacency.

And complacency gets people hurt.

They had split into the usual teams: M'gann shadowing Kaldur and Conner as they picked their way through the ground floor. Conner's invulnerability and Kaldur's immortality made them the least vulnerable to any of the nasty traps they often found in the area. M'gann, with her ability to turn invisible and scan for telepathic or other psychic traps, floated a safe distance behind. Zatanna took up a post a ways from the building, casting illusion spells to keep the team from being recorded on any cameras while Raquel used technomancy to hide them from any other kinds of sensors. And Artemis and Roy provided overwatch, one sitting on an adjacent rooftop while to other sat in the rafters of the warehouse, keeping watch over the ground team's progress.

Kaldur was coming to the conclusion that they had reached yet another dead end, clicking rapidly through a computer console located in the warehouse's office (encrypted once but easily unlocked with one of Raquel's technomancer charms). The database had been almost completely wiped, the only files remaining being the exact same falsified shipping records they had found in over a dozen other locations. Determined, Kaldur clicked meticulously through each file, searching for any discrepancy or mistake in the wipe. So far Luthor had been thorough. But with an operation as extensive as these dozens of warehouses indicated, an eventual mistake was inevitable.

Kaldur made a triumphant noise in the back of his throat. There, in a hidden subfolder. There was a mp3 file that the wipes had somehow missed. Kaldur tapped the charm at his throat, activating the telepathic network that M'gann used to keep the team linked together. ‘ _I may have found something. A sound file. ‘_

 _‘What are you waiting for?’_ Conner thought. ‘ _Play it.’_

Kaldur nodded, opening the file on the internal media player and pressing play.

The next thing Kaldur knew the screen of the console had gone black, a low static humming from the speakers. Confused, he pressed the power rest button, attempting to regain access to the device. The screen remained stubbornly inert.

Frustrated, Kaldur stepped back from the console. They would have to get Raquel in here to do what she could with device. Though Kaldur had learned much about the technological advances of the surface, computers were still far from his specialty.

Conner made a frustrated noise, having finished rifling through the filing cabinets and searching the room for any hidden compartments. Kaldur made a sharp gesture, signalling to Conner to exit the office. As they did Kaldur noticed that the buzzing followed them. The sound was playing on a warehouse wide intercom, not just the console's internal speakers.

Kaldur tapped the charm again. _'Raquel, we require your assistance.'_

Raquel snorted over the link, amused. _'Okay, gramps, coming. Computer trouble?'_

Kaldur smiled, amused despite his frustration. Raquel had that effect on people. _'Your grandfather wishes he was going to look as good at my age.'_

Eyerolls don't translate to psychic links, but still Kaldur could _feel_ Zatanna rolling hers. _'One day we're going to guess your real age, Kal.'_

Kaldur smiled. _'You mean you can't get Richard to look it up for you in the University database?’_

Zatanna snorted, sounding remarkably similar to her girlfriend. _'I can get Dick to do anything. But don't pretend anything about you is even **in** the database.'_

Kaldur and Conner had reached the front entrance of the large warehouse, about to reply when the static in the air cut out, replaced by a low, smooth voice.

“Hello, children. It seems you've found yet another of my little hideaways.” The low, masculine voice rang throughout the warehouse, indicating that speakers were placed all along the walls and rafters. It was a cultured voice, with a strictly American accent. It was the self-assured tone of a man used to getting exactly what he wanted, no matter the consequences. Something about it made Kaldur’s gut twist.

The voice continued. “Did no one ever tell you it was rude to invade another man's property? Ah, well. I suppose I should expect rudeness from you, considering you've stolen two of my most valuable pieces of property from me.”

Conner's face twisted, fear and horror mixing in his eyes. "Is that.."

Roy's voice rang out from the rafters. "Luthor! If he left that recording, it can't be good. Kaldur, shu--"

Roy was cut off as Luthor began speaking again, the volume growing increasingly loud until it drowned out the archer's voice. "I may not be able to get the Superboy back, but I can recover one of my assets. Red Arrow: eliminate the interlopers, override _lima lima zero one_."

The recording halted, the relative silence ringing strangely in the air.

M'gann spoke. "Red Arrow? Who is--"

She was cut off abruptly by the swoosh of an arrow as it flew towards her position on the west wall. She barely managed to turn intangible in time, phasing around the projectile and flying quickly upwards as another volley was launched towards her.

“Roy!” Kaldur shouted, gaping in astonishment as the archer readied yet another arrow to launch at M’gann. Roy turned, snarling, and unleashed the arrow towards Kaldur instead.

Kaldur rolled, ducking away just in time to dodge the shot. He looked up as Conner leaped up into the rafters, furious.

“Conner, stop!” Kaldur shouted, drawing his water bearers. “M’gann! Get out of the warehouse and try to link with him--something isn’t right!”

M’gann nodded, phasing out the warehouse wall and disappearing from sight. Conner had reached Roy, and was swinging wildly while the other simulacrum ducked and dodged out of the way. Finally, Conner backed Roy into a supporting girder, trapping him on the steel beam suspended twenty feet in the air.

Roy snarled, fending off blows with his polycarbon bow before leaping to the warehouse floor below. He landed hard, rolling to a stop and stilling. Heart in his throat, Kaldur ran across the warehouse floor to his position, water bearers at the ready.

 _‘M’gann’_ , he thought. _‘Can you get anything from him?’_

_‘No! I can’t read him.’_

_‘Is something causing interference?’_

_‘No, it’s not like that at all. Even then I’d be able to sense something, but it’s like there’s nothing there.’_

_‘Raquel? Zatanna?’_

_‘Not sure,’_ came the reply from Zatanna. _‘We’re on our way--find a way to hold him.’_

Kaldur skid to a halt, just feet away from Roy’s crumpled form. _‘I do not think that will be a problem. He appears to be down.’_ Kaldur sheathed one bearer, approaching carefully. Roy didn’t stir, arms tucked under his body as he laid face down. Something about the angle of his left leg was distinctly wrong, even to Kaldur’s limited knowledge of human anatomy.

 _‘Careful,’_ Artemis chimed in.

Kaldur nodded, forgetting for a moment that there was no way for her to see the gesture. He drew a pair of reinforced cuffs from his back pocket, reaching to pull Roy’s wrists behind his back.

The moment Kaldur touched cold skin Roy snapped into motion, twisting to kick Kaldur forcefully in the jaw. Kaldur reeled sideways, opening himself to Roy’s attack as the archer tackled him to the ground. There was a sharp pain between his ribs, ending in the hollow of his chest.

Kaldur looked down, eyes widening as he saw the fletching of one of Roy’s arrows protruding from his abdomen. Roy had driven one of his arrow up and under his ribs, through his diaphragm to his heart.

Or to where his heart would be, were he anything but Atlantean. As it was Kaldur felt dizzy--his punctured diaphragm made breathing difficult, and he could feel the warm wet of his own blood flooding his lungs.

Black began to encroach on the edges of his vision. Kaldur grit his teeth, the taste of copper rising in his throat. Grunting in pain, he managed to get a grip on Roy’s wrists. Then he wrapped his legs around the simulacrum’s waist, locking his ankles behind the other man’s back. With a twist of his hips he managed to flip them, settling his weight on Roy’s thighs to pin the other man.

Roy snarled up at him, eyes glowing so brightly blue that they cast the rest of his features in shadow. He bucked and struggled madly, with none of the precision or patience that Kaldur had come to expect from him during their sparring session. Kaldur increased the strength of his grip, wincing as his fingers sank through Roy’s skin to the denser material that made up the man’s bones.

“Roy!” He rasped wetly, blood spitting from his mouth and fleckling crimson red across the tan of his friend’s furious face. ‘My friend, fight him! Return to us!”

No recognition flared in the archers eyes as he hissed up at Kaldur, teeth bared like an animal’s. Kaldur’s stomach clenched--he could see nothing of Roy in the trapped monster below him. M’gann claimed to be unable to find any trace of his mind.

It occurred to him that he had no idea if there was any Roy _left_ in this creature to return.

There was a heavy thud as Conner landed behind him. “Kaldur are you—” He cut himself off, seeing the blood seeping steadily through Kaldur’s high-necked sweater and dripping onto Roy’s pinned chest.

Kaldur grit his teeth, shaking his head to fight off the stars beginning to swirl in his vision. “The cuffs,” he wheezed, gesturing with his head to the magic-nullifying cuffs that lay several feet away, knocked from Kaldur’s hands when Roy had tackled him. “Help me restrain him.”

Conner moved quickly, securing Roy by his biceps and twisting the simulacrum to lie head down against the filthy concrete of the warehouse floor. Kaldur managed to cuff the struggling man’s wrists together, fumbling with the clasp of the cuffs as his vision continued to darken.

Once secured, Roy went limp. The cuffs were enchanted with the same charm Kaldur has used on Conner months before. Exhausted and panicking, Kaldur managed to slump to Roy’s side, only avoiding face-first contact with the floor himself due to the sudden appearance of Conner’s arm around his waist.

Kaldur hissed in pain as Conner picked him up gently, settling him carefully against a nearby shipping crate. Kaldur tried to thank him, but all that came out was a faint gurgle as blood continued to fill his lungs.

Kaldur’s eyelids grew heavy, drooping further and further as he tried to focus his vision on Roy’s still form over Conner’s shoulder. The simulacrum was completely immobile, lying motionless on the floor like a discarded doll. _‘Roy,’_ Kaldur thought, mind going hazy with oxygen deprivation. _‘M’gann, can you—’_

 _‘--nothing,’_ she responded, and Kaldur saw her as she re-emerged from the wall, floating towards them through the dim light of the warehouse. _‘Raquel and Zatanna are almost here, maybe they can—’_ She cut off, catching sight of Kaldur where he was slumped against the crate. “Kaldur!”

Conner turned to her, face helpless. “Roy buried an arrow in him, I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix him.”

Artemis interrupted him, speaking through the link. _‘He’ll be okay. Get the arrow out, and try to stem the bleeding. Kaldur’s tough.’_

M’gann’s eyes were wide and horrified, fixed on the gory fletching of the arrow buried in Kaldur’s body. _‘There’s so much blood.’_

Kaldur’s vision had begun to fade rapidly. He felt Conner’s large hands press against his stomach, preparing to pull the arrow out. He grit his teeth, shutting his eyes as the head of the arrow snagged against his flesh while Conner drew it out. If he had any air he’d scream.

 _‘He’s **really** tough,’ _ Artemis assured, in the forced calm she always used in a crisis. _‘We’ll explain later. I’m going to keep overwatch--Luthor might have a secondary attack coming for us. Get Roy and Kaldur and get out of there.’_

The arrow came free at last, accompanied by the warm flow of blood down his front. Kaldur gave up on the struggle to re-open his eyes, bracing himself as large hands clumsily wrapped thick fabric around his abdomen in an attempt to stem the bleeding. His lungs ached. The darkness behind his eyes encroached further into his mind, muffling the sounds--real and psychic--of the others.

Traumatic blood loss was becoming a too familiar sensation.

The last thing Kaldur was aware of was strong arms hooking below his waist and knees as he was hoisted up from the cold of the warehouse floor.

* * *

This time when Kaldur awoke it was to a different archer sitting at his bedside.

Well, couchside. Kaldur struggled to sit up, arms sinking into the unforgiving softness of Raquel and Zatanna’s living room sofa. He winced, hissing. Roy’s attention snapped to him from the arrows he had been fletching, tools clattering to the ground as he lurched out of the armchair he was situated in to kneel by Kaldur’s side.

“Hey, hey,” he said, hands steady on Kaldur’s shoulders as he pushed him back to lie down on the cushions. “Easy there, fishsticks.”

Kaldur grabbed hold of one of Roy’s hands where it gripped his shoulder, sighing in relief at the familiar awareness in Roy’s softly glowing eyes. “Roy, you’re—”

“--completely fine,” Roy cut him off, reaching over Kaldur to the side table and retrieving a glass of water. He pressed it into Kaldur’s free hand, demanding. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Kaldur accepted the glass thankfully, draining it in a few rapid swallows. Finished, he passed the glass back to Roy, acquiescing to lie back down. “How? M’gann said you were—” his throat closed up tight around the word. He coughed, clearing it. “Gone.”

Roy sat back on his heels, pulling his hands from Kaldur’s shoulders to rest in his lap. Kaldur felt cold as he moved away, but dismissed the chill as a result of blood loss. “Zatanna and Raquel had to do a cleansing ritual. I wasn’t awake for it, but Artemis said it took a few hours. They’re just woke up, too. They and Artemis are in the kitchen.”

“M’gann? Conner?”

“Den. Conner’s decompressing with some ‘no input’. You… you really scared him.”

Kaldur winced, this time more from guilt than pain. “I suppose I should have told him and M’gann about my...abilities.”

Roy shrugged, but his lips thinned. “I was kind of hoping it just wouldn’t come up again.” He looked away, hand going to his neck guiltily. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Kaldur frowned, reaching out to grab Roy’s free hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “None of us knew that Luthor could do that.”

Roy’s eyes snapped back to Kaldur, fixing on the puckered red flesh of the Atlantean’s healing wound. “Yeah,” he said, softly, expression unreadable. “That.”

Eventually Roy helped Kaldur to his feet, the two of them entering the kitchen to find Zatanna and Raquel sitting around their kitchen table, immersed in the papers and books that littered the entirety of its surface. Artemis was at the counter, putting a pot of coffee on. She turned as they entered, eyes lighting up. “Kaldur!”

Roy stepped slightly in front of him, hands raised. “Careful. He’s up, but he’s still hurting.”

Kaldur smiled, pressing a hand to Roy’s shoulder as he passed him, pulling a mug down from a cabinet. “I will be fine,” he assured, filling the mug from the tap and popping it into the microwave. He pulled down the box of jasmine tea from its shelf, and was about to ask if anyone else would like some when he noticed that the room was deadly silent. Kaldur turned, blinking as he saw that every eye in the room was focused on him. “Um. Tea?”

Raquel threw her hands up, jostling the table and the teetering high pile of books stacked precariously on its edge. “Seriously? That’s it?”

Kaldur frowned, brow furrowing. “My apologies. I feel as if I have missed something.”

Zatanna reached for her girlfriend’s hand, holding it tightly as she looked at Kaldur, gaze cooly assessing. “I’m not sure how you missed drowning in your own blood, Kaldur.”

Roy stiffened, arms crossing as he leaned against the door frame. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Kaldur sighed, setting the tea on the counter and straightening to address his friends. He felt a little ridiculous, doing so shirtless, but he’d neglected to ask whether anyone had managed to retrieve spare clothing for him from the Embassy. “More like the fifth,” he said bluntly. His friends all froze, eyes widening. “I spent years in the Atlantean militia, as all citizens do. I am not new to wounds, or pain. I would not say the experience was pleasant, but it was necessary.”

Artemis scoffed. “Sure it was.”

Kaldur turned to her, brow arched. “And what would you have suggested? That I had allowed Roy to continue attacking M’gann?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “You could have waited to let Conner help. He’s the invulnerable one--you’re just immortal. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword every time one of your friends is in trouble, Kal.”

Kaldur flushed. She had a point--he had allowed his concern for Roy to dictate his actions, and had allowed his emotions to leave him open to attack. “I will take your point under advisement next time.”

Roy growled. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m leaving.”

It was Kaldur’s turn to be shocked into quiet. The group stared at Roy now, silence reigned until it was interrupted by the ding of the coffee maker.

Artemis was the first to speak up, reaching behind her to pour herself a cup of the coffee. She did so calmly, casual as if all Roy had done was remark on the weather. “No, you’re not.”

Roy’s face twisted in irriation. He spread his arms out, gesturing sharply. “I can’t stay, alright? Luthor knows I’m in Gotham, it’s a matter of time before he finds another way to get to me. We can’t always rely on someone being able to restrain me, or that Zatanna and Raquel will always be around to cleanse my brain of Luthor’s shit!”

Zatanna frowned. “We’re working on a long term solution, Roy. By passing Luthor’s abilities to use your Words against you without disrupting the animation spell that keeps you alive...it’s a challenge, but we have made progress.”

Roy shook his head. “I know you’re trying, but I can’t just wait around forever while you figure it out! And in the meantime, how do I keep you all safe? I can’t live in Kaldur’s apartment like some fucking pet!”

Kaldur frowned. “I was unaware that our arrangement was unsatisfactory to you.”

Roy blanched, looking apologetic. “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he assured, posture softening. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, a gesture he’d picked up from Artemis. “Look, I’m not Conner. I’m not some lost puppy with no knowledge of the world. I have the real Harper’s memories, I can take care of myself out there, alright? I’ll figure something out, but I can’t stay here. I can’t have all of you in danger.”

The ‘because of me’ went unsaid, but Kaldur heard it as perfectly as if Roy had shouted it.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Artemis snapped. “What’s stopping him from using you against us once he finds you while you’re on your own, asshole? You think that he can’t buy you a plane ticket, or make you walk your happy ass all the way back from Beijing to Gotham? Isolating yourself just makes you easier to catch!”

“I’m with Artemis,” Raquel jumped in. “We’ve already shown that we can handle ourselves if he gets to you. Besides, what happens if he finds you and tries to use you against people who have no clue what’s going on? At least we know how to disable you without _killing_ you, Red.”

“That worked once,” Roy seethed. “He’s going to find a way around it. He’s going to find a way to make me _hurt_ you.”

“There are those amongst us you cannot hurt,” Kaldur reminded him, uncrossing his arms and moving to stand between Roy and the door. “Roy, I give you my word that I will not allow you to do harm against us.” Kaldur took Roy gently by the shoulders, squeezing tight while he held Roy’s furious gaze with his own, calm and implacable. “I have never lied to you. Trust in me, in us. We are your friends—we will not leave you adrift.”

Roy grit his teeth, shoulders high and tense. “I won’t let him make me hurt you. Not again”

Kaldur shook his head, cocking one brow. “You quite literally can’t.”

Roy’s eyes flashed, blue hot, and he opened his mouth to argue when, behind them, Conner emerged from the living room, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he elbowed past Kaldur and Roy. “Why is everyone yelling?”

Artemis lowered her coffee slowly, fixing Conner with a startled look. “Were you...asleep?”

Conner cocked his head. Kaldur tried not to compare him to one of the canines that surface dwellers kept as companions. But now that Roy had made the comparison, it was a hard image to shake.

“Yes,” Conner said, a little baffled. “That...that’s a thing humans do too, right?”

Artemis blinked. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Just not something we knew _you_ did.”

Shrugging, Conner pulled up a chair at the table, reaching for one of the muffins that Kaldur just now noticed on the table. M’gann must have been stress baking.

All three of Kaldur, Artemis, and Zatanna watched in fascination as the simulacrum bit into it, chewing quickly and swallowing awkwardly as he noticed the scrutiny. “What?”

Zatanna took the seat across from him, abandoning her focus on Roy’s insane announcement as she launched headlong into researcher mode. “You eat?”

Conner blinked, irritation growing on his face. “They designed me as a clone. To do everything High Magister Kent can do.”

Kaldur opened his mouth, questions of his own on the tip of his tongue. Then he noticed that Roy had gone statue still next to him, eyes fixed on the kitchen tiles. There was a tension to the man’s shoulders, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Zatanna forged on, oblivious. “Do you actually process the food? Can you survive without it? Do you have true organs?”

Conner’s brow creased into a deep frown. “I haven’t exactly checked? Cadmus was terrible, but they never starved me. Or _dissected_ me.”

Zatanna blanched, social sense catching up with her academic curiosity at last. “I’m sorry. I mean—we wouldn’t do that, either. I promise. There’s just so much we don’t know about…”

Conner quirked a brow. “About how I was made? Why don’t you ask him,” and here Conner gestured to Roy, who somehow grew even more still. “They made him first.”

Roy’s head snapped up, fixing Conner with a fierce glare. “Not the way they made you, apparently.” Roy advanced on Conner, grabbing the other simulacrum’s shoulder roughly. “Why didn’t Luthor leave a trap for you, huh? Why am I the only one still dancing on his fuckings strings?”

Conner shrugged him off, finishing his muffin and reaching for another one. “Beats me. You’re the one who actually even remembers the guy. Me?” Conner rapped his free hand against his head, meeting Roy’s glare with a challenge. “I’ve got nothing from before you guys found me. Just basic information, contexts. No memories.”

Roy threw his hands up in disgust, growling with frustration as he stormed out of the kitchen.

Kaldur moved to follow him, but Artemis caught him by the shoulder. “Hey, no,” she said quietly. “He’s just angry at himself. It’s stupid, but he blames himself for what happened at the warehouse. Just...let him cool off for a bit, alright?”

Kaldur nodded silently, retrieving his hot water from the microwave. He steeped a tea bag into it, hoping the drink would calm some of the snakes twisting in his stomach.

* * *

Kaldur allowed a few hours to pass, staying with the others in Zatanna and Raquel’s flat while they questioned a surprisingly patient Conner. The boy acted annoyed, of course, but the addition of M’gann to their little group seemed to have given him some grounding he hadn’t had before.

Finally Kaldur extricated himself, waving off a significant look from Artemis. Roy was nowhere to be found in the girls’ flat, so Kaldur made the short walk to the embassy. As he walked through the quiet campus, Kaldur looked up to the still unfamiliar sight of the stars. The warehouse had been a full half-day ago, his trauma induced sleep having carried him from one period of darkness straight into another.

Kaldur squinted upwards as he walked slowly, attempting to pick out the dim constellations Roy had taught him one night, over two months past. The two of them had had a quiet night while Artemis went to see her mother, and Zatanna and Raquel were busy with papers. They had lain side by side on the rooftop of the school’s observatory, Roy recalling faded memories of stars he had been taught by an uncle he’d never really met. The first Roy Harper had grown up on a reservation in Nevada, plucked from his rural life when Magister Queen (an old friend of his uncle’s) had informed Roy that he’d been asked to care for him at Roy’s uncle’s funeral. Roy had refused at first, unwilling to leave the familiarity of his home for the bright lights of an American city. But Oliver had convinced him, eventually. And they’d lived happily, more or less. Until…

Roy had cut himself off, falling quiet and still as he stared up at the stars. Kaldur had turned to him, pressing his hand to Roy’s shoulder and pretending to ignore the brighter, distressed glow of Roy’s eyes.

After a long minute of silence Roy had spoken, voice soft. “I don’t know if I can ever face him, being what I am. What me existing means for the Roy he lost.”

Kaldur had been unable to find anything to say, then. He had not known Magister Queen in anything but the most formal context, could not guess how he would react to Roy’s existence.

Since the trial the Magister had made some overtures at connection. Roy had responded with luke warmth--first impressions count for a lot, when you’re living on stolen memories. And the Magister had not acquitted himself well in their first real interaction.

Now, as Kaldur reached the door of the embassy and waited for the wards to recognize him, he regretted not finding something to say. Some sort of reassurance that Roy was just as real as his human counterpart had been. It may have meant little. Then again, it may have meant a lot.

Kaldur found said simulacrum in the living room he shared with the only other surface-side Atlantean citizens. Roy was sitting on the couch, slouched over with his elbows balanced on his knees.

“Hey,” Roy greeted as Kaldur entered, not looking up. “I’m sorry. About earlier.”

Kaldur stopped a few steps away from him. He kept his hands at his sides, his tone casual. “Are you referring to temporarily wounding me, threatening to leave, or storming out like a child?”

Roy laughed, rough, burying his head in his hands. “What is all three, Alex?”

Kaldur frowned. “I do not understand that reference.”

Roy sighed, looking up at him. Kaldur suspected that if he were flesh his eyes would be red. As it was, he just looked tired. “You know? Neither do I.”

Kaldur’s mouth quirked, and he settled one hand on his hip. “I need you to understand that I do not hold you responsible for my wound,” he said softly. “You didn’t seem to have trouble with the concept when it was Conner who had injured me.”

“I’m not Conner,” Roy said quickly. At Kaldur’s questioning brow, he elaborated. “When we found Conner he’d never been conscious before. He was...new. To literally everything. So his reaction was more understandable. But I—” Roy cut off, leaning back against the couch, head lolling over its edge as his eyes fixed on some impossible point beyond the ceiling. “I thought I was different, since I escaped,” he said, voice rough, softened by something edging past anger and into despair. “I guess these last few months just. Let me think that I was my own person, you know? Somewhere along the way I stopped believing that Luthor could really just control me like _that_ ,” he snapped his fingers in the air, eyes widening. “Just, shut _me_ off with a word.”

The wound in Kaldur’s chest pulsed, ghost sensations of the arrow buried deep in his body singing pain up his spine. “You are real, Roy. A person, in your own right.”

Roy laughed. It was a bitter sound, sharp and stunted. “Not as much of one as Conner is, apparently. Kid can eat, sleep--hell, Luthor can’t even seem to control him. Not just with words, anyway.”

Kaldur worried his lip. “You and Conner are not as similar as we once believed,” he admitted carefully.

Roy sat back up, meeting Kaldur’s eyes. “Yeah,” he chuckled, on the razor’s edge between hilarity and hysteria. “He’s the finished product. I’m just...the prototype.”

Kaldur edged closer, settling his hand on Roy’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You are yourself. That is enough.”

Roy looked back at him, gaze steady with a question Kaldur couldn’t even begin to interpret, let alone answer. He covered Kaldur’s hand with his own, then reached out and pulled Kaldur down on the couch, grunting as he tugged the Atlantean to lean against his side. “‘M sorry,” Roy muttered, pressing his forehead against Kaldur’s neck. “I know you don't—” Roy made a vague hand gesture, “--touch. Like. Casually. But I really need—”

Kaldur pressed close, wrapping his arms around Roy’s broad shoulders. The simulacrum relaxed, falling half limp in Kaldur’s embrace. “You are my best friend,” Kaldur said honestly, and wondered when the statement had become true. “Whatever you need you must only ask.”

Roy laughed, sharp and bitter but with an edge of hangdog gratitude that clenched Kaldur’s arms tighter around the archer. “That half the fucking struggle though, right? Asking. As if I know what to ask for. Conner at least seems to know what he _wants_.”

Kaldur hummed, pressing his nose into Roy’s hair. He smelled like wet earth and take-out, tinged with the faint smell of burning ozone. Kaldur hated Luthor on principle, though he’d never met the man. But he had to admit the warlock must be a genius when confronted with the exacting detail of Roy’s body.

Roy sighed, leaning a little harder into Kaldur’s embrace. “I want to be _real_ ,” he said quietly, shamed. “Not just so Luthor can’t fuck with me anymore. I want to--I don’t know. Drink beer? Smoke? Skin my knee on the concrete, bleed, dream--anything? Is that stupid?”

Kaldur hummed. “The smoking seems overrated.”

Roy choked a weak chuckle, punching Kaldur lightly in the arm. “You say it like you can even get cancer.”

Kaldur shrugged. “It is a foolish habit,” he said, prim.

Kaldur felt the faint impression of teeth against his skin. Roy was smiling. Good. “It’s sexy,” Roy argued.

Kaldur snorted. “It _stinks_.”

Roy leaned back, tired eyes alight with humor. His expression sobered, gaze steady as he stared into Kaldur’s eyes with his own.

“Roy?” Kaldur ventures, afraid he had misstepped somewhere. Perhaps he has been holding Roy for longer than the simulacrum found acceptable. Kaldur attempted to disengage, but the archer merely tightened his grip when Kaldur tried to pull away.

“‘S nothing,” Roy murmured, looking at Kaldur with a queer light in his eyes. “Just. I always thought your eyes were gray. But they’re so...green.”

Kaldur flushed slightly. “My mother’s color,” he said, an insignificant detail. He had no idea why he mentioned it. Roy’s eyes were luminous blue, his lips pink. The contrast was fascinating.

Roy hummed, settling his head back down on Kaldur’s shoulder. “They’re pretty,” he mumbled, and went quiet, finally slipping into the exhausted coma that overtook him in the stead of sleep.

Kaldur held his friend for a while longer, even as his arms began to ache from holding up the not insignificant weight of Roy’s body. No breath brushed his ear—Roy’s body followed the patterns of breath that a mortal might while he was awake, another painstaking detail of the illusion of his humanity. That illusion fell by the wayside in his unconscious state. Roy was cold and unmoving, still and lifeless in Kaldur’s embrace. It was unsettling.

But not as unsettling as the feeling that hooked behind Kaldur’s breastbone and tugged. It dawned on him, on that couch with the quiet sounds of muffled city through the windows, that he _wanted_ , for Roy. But not just _for_ Roy.

He wanted the warmth that Roy felt to be _his_ warmth. He wanted to be there when Roy awoke up for the first time, to see his blue eyes blink away the veil of true sleep. Kaldur wanted to take him to the sea and have him feel the tug of the ocean on his skin.

A familiar pain lanced through Kaldur's chest. It was explicitly not his healing wound--this was a soul deep, wrenching ache. An ache that he had felt only once before, many years ago in an ocean far from this city.

Kaldur looked at the fire of Roy's hair, red as coral. At the fan of lashes against his cheeks where his eyelids closed, hiding eyes blue as the shallows. He looked, and with the ache yawning in his chest like _hunger_ Kaldur realized he was, in Artemis’ words, ‘deep, deep shit’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever manage to write a chapter of this fic where Kaldur doesn't pass out from blood loss? Who knows! Stick around and eventually we'll find out!
> 
> If you have any questions about this fic, especially any questions about the magic system I have in mind for this AU or the government/species (like simulacrums or Atlanteans, especially) you can always find me at rockscanfly.tumblr.com. Thanks for all of your patience, and as usual feedback is appreciated!


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